


Between Battlefields

by Selena_Maria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels vs Humans, M/M, angel!cas - Freeform, human!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena_Maria/pseuds/Selena_Maria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are lots of things in the world that are unpredictable. When a baby will be born, when a person will die, or when the end of the world will come upon us. It all happens so fast; too fast. I suppose that's how it's supposed to work, and that we can't change it no matter what, but I guess it can't hurt to wish differently. After all, the world I once knew has already ended, and the rules are different now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

Dean kicked his chubby legs furiously, in hopes that he could cause himself to move a little. Nothing. He whined in frustration.

He was the shortest one in his school, and all the kids would constantly tease him about it. They would tell Dean that he would never grow, and that he was perfectly useless.

It was even worse that he wasn't able to use the swing, and when they found out, they teased him even to a greater extent than before.

"Dad," he cried. "Dad, come push me please!"

Now, Dean's father never coddled him, and he knew this, but he wanted so badly to swing. He cried for him again, over and over until he stood in the doorway, hands on his hips.

"What Dean?" He scowls. His beard was becoming more than a light stubble and in his hand was a frying pan. Dean assumed he was fixing dinner. Even though Dean wanted his father to aid him, he didn't want him to get mad over it. He suffered a quick temper.

"Never mind, Dad." He replied softly. Shaking his head, he headed back indoors, the screen door closing softly behind him.

Dean slid off the swing silently. He would try again tomorrow. And if he didn't get it then, well, who needs to know how to swing? Swinging was for babies. Besides, the swing hurt his rear.

His shoes made clouds of dust as he bounced playfully to the porch, pretending he was a great explorer. When he reached for the door's handle, he noticed a small lizard a few feet away from him. Dean's eyes widened in excitement. He loved lizards. He quickly peered through the screen of the door and regarded his father still cooking. He wouldn't notice if Dean was gone as long as he was quick about it.

Dean tiptoed over to the lizard as quietly as possible. The lizard noticed him as he approached, and turned to give him a quiet hiss. Dean hissed back, which confused him a little. He suddenly decided to bolt, scurrying into a hiding space. Dean set about looking for him.

He was about to give up on his search and head home when he found out the lizard inside a small cylindrical tube made out of steel and a thin layer of rust. It would be a tight fit, but Dean was positive he could squeeze into it.

He squatted next to the entrance and push himself inside. The lizard looked at him, but didn't move. Dean held out his small hand to him. "It's all right," he whispered. "I won't hurt you." The lizard blinks.

"C'mon," Dean urged. He had to hurry; his father would kill him if he noticed Dean was gone.

After a minute, the lizard steps forward cautiously, and Dean took the opportunity to scoop him up. He smiled brightly, cradling him against his chest and cooing to him gently. Wait 'til Sam saw the little guy. He would be enraptured.

Abruptly, the tube starts vibrating slightly, making an odd buzzing noise. That's weird, he thought. Dean turned his head to the side to look outside, and sure enough, the pebbles were alive, skittering across the cracked soil.

It ends as quickly as it started, and for a moment he thinks it's over.

And that's when the explosions started.

~~~~~

I still remember that day vividly. The day the bombs rained silently from the sky and ended everything I knew. I lost everything that day. My house, my family, and my hope. The world has certainly changed since that day. But not for the better. I was eight then, and even nine years later, I still have no idea why I made it. And why the others didn't.


	2. Mission

I open my eyes slowly, flinching at the bright light in my small room. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and stretch. 

My room is probably the most boring place in the world. Everything in here is white. White dresser, white walls, white floor, white bed frame, white - well, you get the point. Unless you're a child under the age of ten, you are restricted from having any sort of decor in your space. It's considered very immature and childish to have that sort of stuff. 

Throwing back my sheets, I slip off my bed and onto the cold tile floor. I glance over at my clock; 4:25am. I sigh in relief. I'm supposed to be up around 4:30 and down at the cafeteria by 4:40.

I pad my way over to my dresser, sliding it open quietly. I carelessly grab some clothing- it's all the same anyway- and slip it on. 

Every day, it's the same routine. Wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and await further orders from your commanding officer. I usually go down to the training unit of our underground facility, along with the others in my troop. I'm the oldest in my troop, all of the others being around the age of nine. They were born here, unlike me. 

Our officer is a young woman that's a year or two older than me, and she's a lot nicer than the others. Most officers don't even give breakfast to their troops. 

Soon, I'll have my own official position, and I'll get my own troop. But for now, I'm stuck as a lieutenant. 

It's not so bad here. I mean, we get clean clothes, food, and a roof over our heads. Not to mention that we are always protected. At least, that's what they tell me. 

I've never really gotten a glimpse of what goes on Outside. I only hear bits and pieces from conversations between officers. All they ever talk about are the Rebels. 

Rebels are those that escaped the bombing and refused help from the Society, saying that it was corrupted and cruel. There are rumors that float around, claiming that the Rebels were behind the bombing, but I don't pay much attention to them. Even though I have a disliking to them, I'd never accuse them of something like that, unless I had proof. 

My clock starts buzzing lividly, rattling on my bedside table, reminding me that I have to go to the cafeteria now. I dismiss the alarm, and pull my combat boots on. The door closes quietly behind me. 

~~~~~

The cafeteria is humming with mixed conversations, people already sitting with their friends. I usually sit alone at a table in the corner of the room.

I scoop the tray into my arms and thank the lunch lady, already headed to my usual spot. Today we have runny mash potatoes, soft carrots, and some sort of mystery meat. The food sucks here, sadly enough. I begin to eat quietly, pushing around my food with the tines of my fork and listening to others' conversations. 

"Lieutenant?"

I look up from my tray. Our unit captain, Uriel, is standing in front of me, wearing full camouflage and hiking boots. "Yes, Captain Moore?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

"You're needed down at the Colonel's headquarters," he replies, his voice becoming monotone. "He didn't say why, but I am in no position to question his orders."

I nod stiffly. "Thank you, Captain." I say, rising to dispose of my tray, leaving Captain Uriel whatever else he had to do. I push through the heavy double doors into the hallway, keeping a blank face as I walk, with the exception of nodding in greeting to passing soldiers. What would the Colonel need me for? I question myself. Surely he could ask someone higher in skill to do whatever he was asking. I couldn't be here for causing trouble; I was one of the better behaved soldiers-in-training, considering the rest of my troop consisted of mere children. 

I stop in front of two wooden doors, hesitant. I knock on the heavy doors. "Come in," a quiet voice replies. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and open the door. 

The Colonel's headquarters is white - just like about everything else here - and a lot bigger than my space. Right now he is writing something - a report I assume. When I step inside and close the door, he looks up from the papers and offers me a warm smile. 

"Hello, Lieutenant. I see you were informed of my orders." he greets, clasping his hands together on his desk. 

"Yes, sir." I reply plainly. 

"Oh, none of that. You can call me Zachariah," he dismisses. I open my mouth to object, but close it. 

"Now," he continues. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked for you." I stay silent, but nod in affirmation. "Well, we have a very important mission for you; a mission that can be done only by you." I raise my eyebrows slightly. This should be good. The Colonel's eyebrows furrow. He looks uneasy.

"We are sending you Outside, to pose as an insider of the rebels."


	3. Awaited

I blanched. "O-Outside, Sir?" I stammered. What is he, insane?

The Colonel nods, oblivious to the problem here. "B-but Sir," I attempt to argue. "What if they find out? They'd kill me! Why can't one of you're other soldiers go out there? They're more conditioned for this sort of task." The Colonel seems unfazed by my plead, his expression indifferent. 

"I'm sorry, but in order for them to trust you, you have to appear trustworthy. We need someone young to take on the part, but we can't use the children for this. As for my soldiers, they're all up at the front line." he explains, and my jaw drops. Unbelievable. 

"I'm granting you two weeks, Lieutenant. I hope to have the information I want by then."

Before I have a chance to retort, he holds up his hand to cut me off. "That will be all, Lieutenant." My cheeks heat up in anger, and I clench my jaw to prevent myself from giving a biting reply. 

"Yes Sir." I answer curtly, and turn round sharply, making sure the door closes with a bang. 

~~~~~

I'm given three hours to pack the necessities. Three hours until I would be facing impending death.

I can't believe they're expecting me to work as a spy. The rebels aren't stupid if they're still alive out there, and I don't doubt they'll see right through me. 

Right now I'm resting on my bed, waiting for them to take me away from everything. This has been my home for a long time. To think I would never see it again is unbearable. 

My pack lays ready by the doorway. It contained the things I absolutely needed. An empty water bottle (with a little vial of iodine on the side to purify water I come across), a medium pack of beef jerky, and a first aid kit. Not much, but the less I carry, the easier it'll be travelling. Or run. 

There's a knock at my door. It's time to go now. I roll out of bed with a groan and walk to the doorway. I crouch down and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and open the door.

In front of me stood Captain Moore. And even though I have an unpleasant knot in my stomach eating away at me, I manage a weak smile. It's somewhat comforting to see a familiar face. "Hello Captain," I greet, and he gives me a strained look I think is his attempt to smile. I don't think he smiles much.

"You can call me Uriel, Dean. I don't mind," he offers. I can't help but feel like he is allowing a friendship between us. It would be nice to have a friend. Not that I ever really considered Uriel as a friend. Perhaps he was only allowing this because he knew it would be short-lived.

"Okay.. Uriel."

"Now c'mon Dean. You have somewhere to be." And with that, he motions for me to follow him and starts to head down the hall. I jog to his side and match his stride. 

This hall will eventually get us to an elevator. The elevator that will take me to Outside. To the rebels. No words are spoken, and even though I wish to talk to him, I can't seem to swallow the lump in my throat. And I fear that if I tried, I would explode. No, I couldn't lose my cool now. The least I could do was maintain my dignity. I stand taller. 

As long as it protected the people that took me in all those years ago, then I would proudly accept my fate, whatever it may be. 

And as ruthless as the rebels are made out to be, I'm sure it won't be a pleasant one.


End file.
